


First Time

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-24
Updated: 2006-04-24
Packaged: 2019-01-19 21:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12418131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: You laughed, threw your head back and laughed when you got the note in Arithmancy class. It’s the first time you’ve ever been asked to Hogsmeade on a corner of some old Potions essay.





	First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**First Time**

**A/N:** So, this is sort of—and I mean “sort of” in the stretchiest way possible—a companion piece to “Last Time”? I was really pleased with “Last Time,” and the thought of a continuation never crossed my mind until some reviewers suggested it…

So! This if for **razingthru** and **kllrs** , who both rooted for a companion piece, and especially the latter, who wanted Lily’s POV.

**Disclaimer:** Mmm…don’t own anything? Check.

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For the first time in five years, that ribbon he charmed back in second year sits atop your flaming hair, still charmed in that horrendous shade of neon pink with yellow polka dots. Before you can control it, a smile flits across your face, for the briefest moment.

Before the groan escapes your mouth. Again.

This is _ridiculous_ , both your anxiety over your hair, and the silly flapping in your chest.

It’s just a date. Just a normal, humdrum, ordinary Hogsmeade trip. Nothing special, nothing at all.

You fling yourself backwards onto the bed, making the pillows jump in surprise. A strangled noise escapes your throat, one of impatience, of frustration, of…you can’t even begin to describe what it is.

Your hand sneaks into the left pocket of your robes. You’ve always loved pockets, and the familiarity gives you a strange comfort now. Your fingers nudge the soft feather of your spare quill, the cloth sack of coins, a corner of scrap parchment…

A breathy smile escapes your lips as you rub the parchment between your fingers. You don’t bother to read it. The words have been rolling around in your head since the beginning of this week:

_I’ll meet you at 10:30?_

You laughed, threw your head back and laughed when you got the note in Arithmancy class, before the silence swallowing the class came crashing into your ears, making you sink into a pillow of rosy embarrassment. No matter, though. A minute later, the foolish grin wormed onto your face again.

It’s the first time you’ve ever been asked to Hogsmeade on a corner of some old Potions essay. (You could tell by the lingering scent of flobberworms.)

The simplicity, the question mark, it’s all so like him. You wonder in a back corner of your mind if the punctuation mark had been a period before he decided to add a little squiggle to change it to a question. Chivalry? Perhaps…but probably not.

Now, for the first time in your seven years of knowing him, the wonder of his charm strikes you forcefully, because it hasn’t always been like this.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you grab a pillow and hug it, wishing that your clock would read ten-thirty right now, right this moment. And it finally does, and you realize for the first time that you’re shy of him. Shy of going downstairs, shy of seeing the schoolboyish glow you know he will have on his face.

It doesn’t matter, because here you are, in front of him, him with the schoolboyish glow. Somehow you’ve come downstairs without tripping or blushing. You’re blushing. It’s all right, though, because he’s used to it, even expects it. But doesn’t tease. (Not yet, you add as an afterthought.)

Maybe he’s nervous, too. First time he would be nervous on a Hogsmeade trip, you imagine.

Small talk spills from your mouth, and he seems eager to chat, but his words slip out unevenly, with “er”s and “uhm”s sown throughout his speech. Not to mention the incessant hair-rumpling and throat-clearing. You feel like laughing, and so you do. His whole face, his whole frame seems to lift at the sound, and he suddenly lunges, throwing his arms around you. He’s laughing, laughing his cares away, away go the doubts, worries, nervousness. And you’re laughing, too, laughing all the while and wrapped in his lanky arms.

The Hogwarts grounds morph into the Hogsmeade streets, and the two of you chatter away, stop at this store or that store, whisper about that new girl on Sirius’ arm.

You two slow down in front of Honeydukes, your next destination. A wonderland of sugary confections sparkle in the display window, and you look over to him, open your mouth to ask him if he wants to try a free sample of the newest fudge flavor.

The words catch on your tongue and never escape your lips. And you stand there, watching.

But he doesn’t notice that you’re watching him; his solid gaze is lowered, focused on your intertwined fingers. A faint, almost disbelieving smile jerks at his mouth, and your heart is swelling suddenly, inexplicably. You bite back a breath of laughter and squeeze his hand, the warmth pressing against your palm. His trance breaks, his head snaps up, and a frozen moment sweeps by before a grin erupts on his face, overshadowing all of his other handsome features.

And right then and there, you realize, for the first time, that it just may be possible to fall in love with James Potter.

**_Finis_ **

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Reviews, anyone? (:  


.mische.


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